The Price of Beauty
by rnadom
Summary: Daario's breath caught as Berrio's blade pressed harder against the girl's throat. "You want to learn the true price of beauty, little Daario." The other man spat, "Fine, I will teach you, but I guarantee you will find it high indeed." Daario Naharis/OC *pre TV Show*


**So... I fell a little in love with Daario watching the series... this Daario is based off the TV Show appearance, rather than the books. This is merely a scene setting chapter, to hopefully catch your interests, my beloved readers.  
Please leave a review and tell me what you think :)  
I can't promise frequent updates... I'll do my best! But I can't promise...**

_Chapter 1: Entering Employment_

"Come, Daario," Berrio snapped.

Daario didn't even bother to turn his head away from the pretty girl he'd just been flirting with, "Are we in a rush now, Berrio? I thought people waited for the Iron Fists, not the Iron Fists running on the schedule of others."

"Do you want us to get this contract or not?" Berrio demanded; he was on his guard, hand unconsciously on the hilt of his blade. One could never be too careful on the streets of Tyrosh, especially if a rival sell-sword company might be hanging around.

"I'm admiring beauty," Daario replied offhandedly, "Quite stunning, wouldn't you agree?"

"If the price of you 'admiring beauty' is the loss of this job, then I swear by the gods, I will-"

"What?" Daario finally turned, a wry grin on his face, "Fight me? Kill me?"

Berrio had to struggle from grinding his teeth together as he and Daario finally resumed their walk, "Watch yourself, little brother," he warned, "Not everyone is going to be as tolerant of your ways as I."

Daario waved this statement away with a careless gesture, "I'm a simple man, I do as I please, if that angers someone, let them fight me. I'll best them."

"You're a good fighter, little Daario, but you are not invincible. It's the gold we earn that keeps you alive just as much as the blade you carry. In fact, as I recall, it was only my taking of the leadership over the Iron Fists which saved your life only months ago."

"Perhaps," Daario's expression tightened at this reminder, "But that is past, no? Let it remain there."

"I don't think we should take this contract," Quorr muttered from Berrio's right, "This man is Lysene, why should we work for him? How do we know we can trust him?"

"We're sell-swords, Quorr," Berrio reminded the other man mildly, "How do we know we can trust anyone? How does anyone know they can trust us? Gold. And Veleron Norrovis has lots of it."

Quorr muttered something again, but remained silent. He was even more watchful than Berrio, his dagger was slightly unsheathed as he walked. Berrio sighed inside, Quorr was generally a god second in command, but his suspicion of all Lysene may make this contact difficult. If they even managed to get it. Berrio himself had drawbacks, but that was just the native Tyroshi nature in him, and the gold offered was more than enough to quell it.

In all honesty, he'd had more doubts about bringing his little brother along on the trip. Daario was a skilled fighter, good tactician, and at heart, Berrio believed him to be a better man than himself. However, Daario's fondness for beauty was a weakness that Berrio could ill afford these days. Mere months ago, Daario's tryst with the former leader's daughter had nearly gotten the boy killed. It was only because Berrio had stepped over his fallen brother, and stabbed Mervo in the heart, that either brother was still alive today. But he was still Berrio's brother, and he'd rather have a brother at his back during these negotiations than Quorr.

Finally, they arrived at the large, well known, mansion of the wealthy Lysene merchant. It was a brace move of Veleron, settling in Tyrosh with tensions sometimes strong between the cities, but it had paid off more than enough. The man was now one of the wealthiest in Tyrosh, and his name was of good repute throughout the trading ports of the Free Cities. Berrio had not met the man himself, yet. Only spoken to a correspondent, but evidently the other man had been pleased enough to earn the Iron Fists an interview with the merchant himself.

"Now, "Berrio paused just before the gates, "Veleron has a reputation as a fair man, but never trust to rumours. Treat him with respect, but don't bend too easily to his will. We need him to remember that he needs us, and not make him think too much about us needing his gold."

Quorr nodded sharply, his keen eyes darting around the inside of the complex, assessing every possible risk, "We should have brought more men."

"This is a negotiation," Berrio reminded, "Not an intimidation."

Quorr only grunting in response, but gave another nod.

"Daario?" Berrio turned to his brother.

"Hmm?" Daario turned back from his own study of the mansion, "Yes, don't worry, I'll try not to embarrass you too much."

"When you say it, it's not funny," Berrio muttered.

Daario only chuckled, and fell in step behind his brother as Berrio led the way up to the gates. He only paid half attention as his brother announced who they were, and became absorbed in studying the layout of the mansion as they were escorted in to meet with Veleron. It was certainly extensive, perhaps one of the largest complexes in Tyrosh, apparently even the Archon was known to visit. But, too be honest, such information did little to impress Daario. He did not care much whether the contract was gained or not, for while he acknowledged the uses and his own like of gold, beauty was the true draw for a man such as he.

Still, he had to acknowledge that Veleron had an eye for beauty himself. The mansion and surrounding grounds were a sight to behold, and Daario had tipped a wink to more than a few slave girls as he walked past them. Perhaps he was now feeling just a little bit more inclined to desiring a favourable contract with the merchant.

"Please, wait here, my master bids you make yourselves at home and he will be with you momentarily," the slave who had been escorting them withdrew a short distance. Joining two others slaves standing against the wall.

At once, the three sell-swords began studying the room with the eyes of trained pillagers, assessing the items of value, and admiring the quality of everything on show. Veleron was certainly a man for extravagance. Gauzy curtains blew gently in the soft breeze, drifting open and closed to reveal glimpses of the sea through the large windows. Silky carpets in a myriad of colours covered the smooth marbled floor, and weavings depicting detailed scenes covered much of the cool stone walls. Odd vases, tables, and little statues lined the walls. In the centre of the room, there were no chairs of any kind. In place of such furniture, mounds of cushions sat piled around a tray containing food and wine.

Berrio and Quorr were still looking around the room, but Daario had done his quick assessment, and took the slave's words to heart. Walking over, and lounging his long frame onto a particularly colourful pile, earning himself a disapproving glance from his brother.

"What?" Daario shrugged, "I'm merely making myself at ease."

"And I'm glad you are!"

The slight whisper of a sliding door being opened was all the warning the sell-sword trio had before the cheerful voice boomed into the air. Their host, one Veleron Norrovis, walked into the room with an air of supreme ease and confidence. Quorr twitched slightly at the loud entrance, but held his peace. The brothers meanwhile, maintained their normal control, only passing a brief glance between each other. Daario saw that Berrio's hand had twitched towards his stiletto, but it stilled quickly.

"Please, sit," Veleron urged, making his own way over to sit quite casually on the floor, leaning against a pile.

After a moment's hesitation, Berrio and Quorr joined him. Veleron smiled at all of them, and waved one of the slaves forward to pour wine and pass the cups around. The distraction gave all in attendance a moment to study each other. Daario took in the Lysene merchants appearance with mild surprise. His blonde hair was curled in typical Lysene fashion, and Daario could smell the fragrant perfume coming from it, but while he was mostly clean-shaven, his mustachios were dyed a bright green in the manner of Tyroshi. His flowing robes were made of fine Pentoshi silk, cut in the fashion of the same city, and the rings on his ringers were of Qohorian make, set with flashing gemstones.

In short, the man made quite an impression. Daario was quite struck at the mix of traits which made up the man's overall look. He seemed to be attempting to be a man of all the Free Cities, the mixture and colours were quite a distraction to the eye. It was only when Daario looked at the man's face, and caught the sharp look in his eye, did he realise it was all a deliberate attempt to lead others' minds astray. Veleron was no fool, he could see it. The merchant's gaze lingered on each sell-sword in turn, studying him, assessing him, before moving on to the next. In the time it took all three other men to study him, Veleron had already finished his overview of them, and was sipping his wine contentedly.

"Now, shall we begin our business?" Veleron inquired.

When he spoke, Daario found it easier to remind himself that the man was Lysene. His accent was strong.

"Yes," Berrio replied shortly; taking a gulp from his own wine cup.

Veleron's sharp eyes rested on him, bright and piercing as ice, "Are you the captain of the Iron Fists?"

"Berrio Naharis," he introduced himself, "And this is my second in command, Quorr."

"And I am Daario, Daario Naharis," Daario interjected; before Berrio could make his introduction for him, raising his cup to the merchant, and taking a taste of the fine Dornish vintage.

Veleron's eyes flickered to the matching blade set up and hilts on the brothers, only, Berrio's naked women were forged of gold. He nodded to himself, and gave Daario a second glance over. Daario met the man's eyes unflinchingly, and found Veleron's gaze strangely searching. But then, he turned back to Berrio.

"What is your price?"

This was the common first question when dealing with sell-swords. One seldom asked what the actual contract was first, price was the important thing.

"One hundred and fifty coins per week of service, gold Tyroshi," Berrio replied instantly.

Veleron arched one pale eyebrow delicately, "One hundred fifty you say? That's a heavy price."

"We're a heavy crew," Berrio took another gulp of wine, finishing his cup, and holding out his hand for a refill.

It was a challenge, a small one, but Daario noticed it. As Berrio and Veleron locked glances, eventually, the older man inclined his head and gestured a slave forward to pour more wine for the captain.

"I will not need you for real fighting, I hope, more...as a precaution," Veleron explained.

"What kind of precaution?"

Veleron reached out and helped himself to an exotic fruit from the Summer Isles, taking his time tasting it, before replying.

"I have recently entered into negotiations for a very large and important trade with Belra Vocaris," Veleron flitted his gaze around the trio, noting the flash of recognition, "Ahh, you know the name."

"Belra Vocaris is a dangerous man," Berrio said; his voice had taken on a softer, more serious, tone.

"Exactly," Veleron nodded, "But a wealthy man, and he has goods that I want."

"He's known for double-crossing on deals," Daario noted, "Many people who enter an agreement with him, seem to mysteriously die before he can make payment, but after he has what he wants."

"Right again," Veleron agreed.

"Which is why you need us," Berrio said.

"Which is why I need you," Veleron agreed.

Silence stretched between the parties. The three men shared a series of calculating glances between each other, as the merchant would-be employer watched, twisting the end of his green mustachios, taking sips from his wine. Eventually, Daario gave the slightest inclination of his head to his brother. Quorr hesitated longer, they all knew the reputation of Belra as a vicious and back-stabbing trader. But eventually, even Quorr nodded his head, even slighter than Daario had.

Berrio turned his glance back to Veleron, "One hundred and fifty," he repeated firmly.

Veleron held the captain's gaze for several long moments, but extended one be-ringed hand, "One hundred and fifty."

"Plus," Berrio added while still holding the man's hand, "Extra if we suffer damage to ourselves or our goods while in your employ."

"Done," Veleron agreed.


End file.
